Harry Potter & The Dark Lord's New Nose
by Bellatrix-Loves-Voldie
Summary: Okay this is just a funny thing.. well i hope it's funny! Voldie has a nose job! please R&R!
1. The Decision

_**Harry Potter & The Dark Lord's New Nose **_

"WORMTAIL!" screeched Lord Voldemort one morning as he stepped out of the shower and wrapped his blue toweling robe around his skeletal frame.

Wormtail, a short, balding little man with a face that rather resembled that of a rat, came scurrying into the room looking timid and frightened of his master's call.

"Yes master?" he stammered, stooping into a bow so low that the fine hairs on his head touched the floor.

"Wormtail, I have come to realise that people are becoming less fearful of me as they once were."

"Master, no-"

"Do not interrupt me, Wormtail!" hissed Voldemort warningly. "As I was saying, I am becoming increasingly worried that certain witches and wizards feel it is perfectly acceptable to make a mockery of me!

"Master, never-"  
"What did I tell you?!" said Voldemort, his voice rising dangerously.

"I deeply appologise Master!" beseeched Wormtail, kissing the hem of Voldemort's toweling robe.

"Get up!" commanded Voldemort. "Look at me! What do you feel when you see my face?"

"Master, I-"

"I know what you're thinking!" said Voldemort, "You're thinking how ridiculous I look now that my nose is no longer…in tact." Voldemort paused. "Wormtail, you know how I usually despise Muggle antidotes but I am becoming desperate… I am afraid I require… a nose job!"


	2. The Plan

At first, Wormtail thought he had misheard his master.

"A nose job, my Lord?" he asked perplexedly.

"Yes Wormtail, a nose job! How many times do you need to be told?" snapped Voldemort, impatiently. "You will arrange it for me, as quickly as possible. As much as I loathe the idea of Muggles touching my perfect self, I can see there is no other way. Obviously I cannot enter St Mungos to have it magically restored; all of the wizarding community know me and would therefore cause all sorts of complications. I would have to kill dozens of Aurors and Healers just to get away and I really can't be bothered with all the fuss." He explained.

Whilst Wormail tried to fathom out whether his master had finally lost his sanity completely, Voldemort went to his bedroom and produced a stack of newspaper cuttings from under his lavish four-poster bed.

"I have been collecting Muggle newspapers for a while now, trying to decide which procedure would be most appropriate." He informed Wormtail. "I have eventually decided that this…ah….surgeon would be best."

So, less than a week later, Wormtail accompanied Voldemort to a muggle hospital for his surgery.

"Now, Mr-" the surgeon faltered, gazing confusedly at his notes.

"I prefer to be addressed as "Lord" if you don't mind!" hissed Voldemort.

"Er..right." said the surgeon, clearly thinking that his patient was not right in his mind.

"So what would you …Good heavens!" yelped the surgeon as Voldemort lowered his hood to reveal his deathly pale face, red eyes and non-existent nose.

"Is there a problem?" asked Voldemort, threateningly.

"N-Not at all." stuttered the surgeon.

"Then let us begin…" murmured Voldemort…


	3. Tragedy Strikes!

Two hours later, Voldemort opened his eyes groggily and, for a moment, felt confused as he gazed around at the unfamiliar surroundings. Then, he felt the pain in his face and remembered; his nose had been returned to normal! And the return of his nose meant the return of his power!

"I require assistance!" he rasped to no-one in particular.

"Ah! You're awake, I see!" said the surgeon nervously.

"I think that much is obvious!" snarled Voldemort, waspishly. "Now, fetch me a mirror. I wish to admire my new look!"

"Yes, sir – I mean Lord!" the surgeon corrected himself after seeing the look on the part of his patient's face that was not covered in bandages.

A few minutes later, he returned, holding a hand mirror aloft. After swiftly passing it to Voldemort, he hurried from the room.

After unwrapping the layers of bandages from his aching face, Voldemort held the mirror upwards so that he could see the results…

The surgeon meanwhile was making himself a mug of tea and thinking to himself how strange his latest patient was. '_Well at least he won't be here much longer.' _ he pondered. Then suddenly, a blood-curdling scream rang throughout the entire ward, causing the surgeon to spill his tea in alarm. Something had happened to make his patient very angry indeed….

Bracing himself for the worst, he hurtled to Voldemort's bedside.

"WHAT IS THIS!??!?!" screeched Voldemort, pointing at his face with an unnaturally long and thin finger.

The surgeon's mouth dropped open in horror; Voldemort's flattened nose was now so large, it appeared not to belong on its owner's face.

"Well, I expect it's just the swelling…" explained the surgeon lamely.

"YOU WILL CORRECT IT!" bellowed Voldemort, a crazy glint in his scarlet eyes.

"W-Well I'm afraid that won't be possible right now-"

"Not possible?!?! _Avada Kedavra!" _

Voldemort had produced his wand as if from thin air, and before the surgeon had time to know what had happened, he was dead.


	4. Voldemort's Shame!

"Come, Wormtail!" screamed Voldemort as he strode out of the hospital.

"My Lord?" said Wormtail, warily, having not yet caught sight of his Master's face.

"Do you not understand me? Perhaps I should find another of my trusted followers to assist me in future? I'm sure Bella would be more than happy to obey my orders first time!" ranted Voldemort.

"No Master, I'm sorry Master!" squeaked Wormtail, leaping up from his hard plastic orange chair and throwing his polystyrene cup of coffee into the air, in his haste to follow his master.

Once they were safely back in his lair, Voldemort threw back his hood to reveal his vast, heavy and unnatural-looking nose to Wormtail.

Wormtail gasped, horror-struck. "My Lord…what have they done to you?" he whimpered.

"I think you can see what they've done to me for yourself, Wormtail!" snapped Voldemort.

Suddenly, he caught a sight of himself, reflected in the hallway mirror. He screamed in fury and rounded on Wormtail.

"I command you to remove all the mirrors in this house! Destroy them!" he cried.

As Wormtail, ran around the house to smash each mirror, (_'and there were A LOT of mirrors,' _Thought Wormtail. _'From a man who claims to despise love so much, he certainly seems to like gazing at HIMSELF all day!.')_, Voldemort continued to rant and rave as if to thin air.

"IT'S AN OUTRAGE! AN ABOMINATION! I WILL BE RIDDICULED MORE THAN EVER!"

And sure enough, the next morning's Daily Prophet bore the headline "You Nose Who" complete with an out-of-focus snapshot of Voldemort, hurrying down the street with Wormtail in hot pursuit.

"'_He Who Must Not Be Named' was spotted late yesterday afternoon emerging from a Muggle hospital, attempting to disguise himself with a cloak and what appeared to be a giant new nose! Let's hope he won't be able to carry out any more murders for fear of not being able to see his victims over the top of his abnormally large conk!'" _Voldemort read out loud in a high whisper. "I am becoming a farce, Wormtail and I don't like it one bit!" he snarled. "But no matter. I have a plan…..!" and smiling devilishly to himself, he threw the newspaper into the fire.


	5. Phase One Of The Plan!

Voldemort was fully aware that one of his horcruxes had been destroyed by that irksome boy, Potter. Admittedly, it had been fun having a part of his soul controlling the ginger blood-traitor girl's mind, but it had come at a price. He was one horcrux down! Oh, how severely Lucius had been punished for that particular incident. He grimaced reminiscently before turning his attention back to the matter in hand. He needed another horcrux! And now he had ample opportunity to get himself another!

"Wormtail!" barked Voldemort, clicking his long fingers impatiently.

Wormtail skidded into the room, almost tripping over his robes.

"Yes, my Lord?" he enquired, stooping into a deep bow that barely made him seem any shorter than he already was.

"Get up, Wormtail and listen to me! I want rid of this thing," he gestured his nose, "and I want rid quickly! Fetch your wand. I have little faith in Muggle solutions right now!"

"Yes, Master!" Replied Wormtail, giving another quick little bow. And with that, he retreated from the room once more.

Once Wormtail returned, Voldemort turned to face him, looking slightly repulsed.

"Now, unfortunately Wormtail I cannot remove the item in question myself, seeing as how I cannot see my reflection at present, so I am having to ask you to do it for me."

"R-Remove your nose, Master?" asked Wormtail, tentatively.

"Yes, my nose Wormtail! What do you think I mean? Do you think I require you to remove my entire head?" retorted Voldemort incredulously.

"No, Master, of course not, Master!" tittered Wormtail nervously.

"Then please do not waste time with idle chit-chat! Continue!" ordered Voldemort in a high-pitched whisper.

And so after much dramatic wand waving and failed attempts, Voldemort's 'nose' lay disgustingly on it's previous occupant's bedside table.

"Thank you, Wormtail. You may go." said Voldemort, curtly.

After Wormtail had backed out of the room, Voldemort began to laugh insanely. Step one of his plan was complete!


	6. The end bit hehe

The next morning, Voldemort woke up bright and early. He yawned widely and leapt out of bed. After hurriedly brushing his teeth and getting dressed in his customary robes of black, he burst into Wormtail's 'bedroom' (which was actually a pile of rags in the cupboard under the stairs) and yelled, "Wormtail! Today is the day I finally put this infernal Muggle creation," (he drew the nose from inside his pocket) "to good use! Now get up!" Without waiting for a reply, he slammed the door shut, causing a nest of spiders to fall onto Wormtail's balding head. Wormtail screamed girlishly and hurried from out of the cupboard wearing only a pair of over-sized red and white polka dot boxer shorts.

Voldemort rounded on him immediately; "What are you doing, Wormtail? Go and make yourself look presentable at once, or I will Crucio those ludicrous underpants all the way to Albania!"

Wormtail trembled and scurried back to the cupboard.

Half an hour later, Wormtail and Voldemort were roaming the Muggle streets, Wormtail looking the most inconspicuous under the guise of Scabbers and hiding in his master's robe pocket.

"Now Wormtail," hissed Voldemort out of the corner of his mouth, "I need to find a suitable victim."

Wormtail could only squeak pathetically in response; he was most displeased at having to share the pocket with Voldemort's old nose.

"Aha!" cried Voldemort in delight, barely able to conceal his glee. "Just my luck! One of the blood traitors!"

And sure enough, rummaging excitedly through a box of seemingly ordinary spark plugs was Arthur Weasley!

"Think how upset Potter and his pals will be when they find out the dear old Muggle lover is no longer with us!" cackled Voldemort.

And so, clutching his wand in one hand, and the fleshy remains of his nose in the other, he advanced upon Mr. Weasley…

'_What a__ miserable day_' Arthur Weasley was pondering to himself. The rain was falling thick and fast, clouding up his horn-rimmed glasses and obscuring his vision. He had received a tip-off that these spark-plugs were enchanted to burst into flames whenever a Muggle tried to use them, but they seemed perfectly ordinary to him.

"Hello, Mr. Weasley." said a high, cold voice.

He was speaking in a voice barely louder than a whisper, and yet was still perfectly audible over the sound of the Muggle radio that was blaring out dated music from the next stall.

Arthur slowly turned around, praying he had not heard who he thought he had. But there, stood before him in robes of black, stood Lord Voldemort!

Arthur gasped and dropped the spark plug he was holding. "I-it's you!" he stammered.

"Yes, it's me!" Voldemort replied quietly, feeling rather amused by the blood traitor's obvious discomfort.

"I am a Ministry of Magic employee!" stated Arthur, trying to sound braver than he felt. "I don't think it's wise to approach me when you're the most wanted wizard in the world, do you? I could have you locked up in Azkaban in an instant!"

Voldemort laughed derisively at this sudden show of bravado.

"Now, Now. Don't make this harder for yourself. I think we both know that by the time reinforcements arrive, you will be dead, and I will be far away from here!" he smirked.

"Now, hang on just one minute!-" began Arthur, filling up with dread.

"I have no time for pleasant conversation, Filth" said Voldemort lazily. "I'm sure you and me both want this over with quickly. _Avada-_"

But before Voldemort could complete the fatal spell, Arthur had grabbed the Muggle radio and, without even thinking about what he was doing, thrown it into the puddle before Voldemort's feet.

There was a deafening scream as the electric shock shot up Voldemort's right leg. Howling in pain, he dropped his wand and his nose into the water. His wand emanated a few pathetic sparks, but the nose lay singed and flattened in the murky puddle; never to be a horcrux.

"NO!" he cried.

The commotion had roused the attention of the Muggles, and Voldemort could see a whole team of policeman advancing upon him. Without knowing how extensive the damage was to his wand, he decided his best bet was to just apparate far away from them all, where he was free to concoct another plan in peace….

Arthur, meanwhile, was sending an owl to his wife.

'_You see, Molly, dear. I told you my knowledge about the Muggle world would come in handy one day…'_


End file.
